


A Hobbit And His Ink (But Not How You Think)

by authoressjean



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: BoFA Everyone lives no one dies, Crack, During the journey and after, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, I'm so sorry, Kili and Fili are pranksters and brats and love every minute of it, M/M, Mentions of between the sheets, Smidge Of Angst, Tattoos, This is so random and crazy I can't even with myself, and sometimes when there aren't any sheets, but mostly crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:56:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo has a tattoo. </p><p>Fili and Kili demand to know what it is and make his life a pain on the journey to Erebor when he refuses to tell them. </p><p>Thorin is also interested, but then again, he's found himself more interested in their burglar than he'd originally thought he would be. For reasons his nephews most certainly aren't.</p><p>Who can blame him? A hobbit with a mysterious tattoo is more than intriguing, it's downright attractive.</p><p>One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hobbit And His Ink (But Not How You Think)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god I am so sorry. Blame Heyerette and Umbralillium because they wanted to read it and demanded I post this nonsense. This has NOTHING to do with "the changed future" verse. This is just random stupidity that came into my head and refused to leave it alone.
> 
> I have no further apologies that I can give. Except that you may need shades when certain dwarves bathe, because while many of their body parts have seen a great deal of sun, certain parts...have not.

It’d been a bad choice of words, and Bilbo had known it the very minute they’d left his mouth. Two pairs of sharp eyes regarded him in a sudden new light, his prey to their predator, and Bilbo carefully rose to standing with the intent of suddenly being anywhere else. They stood and followed after him, leaving him no choice but to walk backwards. There was absolutely no way he was turning his back on them.

Their grins were devious and broad, their gazes too speculative for their own good, and Bilbo suddenly wished he’d never heard of dwarves or the line of Durin and _especially_ not the youngest heirs of its line.

“Really?” Kili said, still advancing. He reminded Bilbo of a puppy his cousin had had, once, all eager eyes and playful and ready to bounce because walking was, apparently, too sedate and nowhere near as much fun. And the mischief that pup got into, that was certainly apt for Kili at the moment. “I mean, do you really?”

“You can tell us,” Fili said with as much sincerity as he could offer from behind his grin that appeared to be taking up his entire face. “We’ll not tell anyone.”

Oh, Bilbo very much doubted _that_. It’d be around the camp before he could so much as breathe. Not that he was going to tell them, anyway, and _damn_ his big mouth. Why hadn’t he gone to collect wood with Bofur and Bifur and Nori? Or started cooking with Bombur and Dori? He could’ve even gone to sit beside Ori, or strike up a conversation with Oin and Gloin, or at this rate, have settled down beside Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin to listen to what they were planning next with Gandalf.

But had he done any of those things? No. He’d instead moved to stoke the fire with Fili and Kili and talk with them, and now he found himself here, backing into a tree with absolutely nowhere else to go and too much anticipation on their faces to run from.

“Just tell us,” Kili wheedled. “Honestly, it’s such a small thing.”

“I didn’t say it was small,” Bilbo’s mouth said for him, and their eyes lit up even more. He winced and pushed himself away from the one tree and continued backing up. “I-I didn’t say that it wasn’t, though, either.”

“Where is it?” Fili asked. “Got to be somewhere… _interesting_.”

Bilbo could feel the tips of his ears going bright red. “Nowhere you’ll see, and that doesn’t mean it _is_ somewhere you would deem interesting! Go _away_!”

“Just one look,” Kili said, and he was back against a tree again, the two dwarves all but looming over him. Bilbo found himself shrinking back against the rough bark of the trunk, wishing he could just disappear like his magic ring let him. But it was tucked away in his pocket, and he wanted to keep it for when he really needed it. Eru only knew what Kili and Fili would do if they knew he had the ring. They’d want to use it and then lose it, most likely.

“Come on,” Fili said, and that was _that_.

“ _Thorin!_ ” Bilbo shouted as loudly as he dared, and Fili and Kili both pouted but backed up. Bilbo took in deep breaths of air, even before Thorin had both of his nephews by the scruffs of their neck. They whined but muted it to grumbling when he glared at them both.

“Do I even want to know why you’re harassing Master Baggins?” he asked. He glanced at Bilbo for an explanation, and before Bilbo could even say anything, Kili piped up with the answer.

“He told us he has a _tattoo_!”

The entire camp went silent. Bilbo felt his cheeks warm under the scrutiny. Thorin blinked at him, surprise evident on his face. “We just wanted to see,” Fili said.

“And I said no,” Bilbo said firmly. “It’s private.”

“Private _place_ -“

Without even looking Thorin cuffed Kili up the back of his head, leaving him to whine and rub ruefully at his scalp. “He’s told you it’s personal,” Thorin admonished. “You’ll leave him alone.”

“You have a tattoo, laddie?” Bofur asked, apparently having returned with the others. He tossed the few sticks and twigs he’d found onto the fire, but his eyes were all on Bilbo.

Everyone’s eyes were still on Bilbo. Bilbo cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter. “Yes, I do. I, um. We were discussing Dwalin’s tattoos, actually. I was admiring them. I never would’ve thought of putting them across my fingers or my head. They’re very nice looking, I quite like them.”

Dwalin gave him a nod of thanks, flexing his fingers and showing off the very tattoos Bilbo had been speaking of. The ink was dark and made his knuckles all the more formidable. The tattoos on his head were also dark, reminding Bilbo of a striped wild animal.

He glanced around, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “Does, um, no one else have tattoos?” he asked. He’d never thought of them being taboo amongst the dwarves. They weren’t a popular choice with hobbits, but young hobbits would typically take the name of their intended, or a flower, or something else soft and sweet. They were usually also small.

Bilbo’s didn’t…entirely fit that bill. In the slightest.

“Oh, we all do,” Balin assured him, having apparently seen the worry in his gaze. “Marks of our trade, of our battles, of near anything. We’ve all ink somewhere.”

“Not Ori,” Dori said, almost proudly. “The only ink he’s ever seen has been from his pens.”

Ori flushed and hid further into his scarf. Dori slowly swung his gaze over to his youngest brother. “Right, Ori?” he asked in a way that suggested he had better answer in the affirmative.

Bofur, thankfully, quickly spoke up, lest the more than likely truth come out. “I’ve a few on my back,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “Hurt quite a bit, but they were worth it. Lovely group down the spine.”

Bilbo winced in sympathy. “Those hurt far more than you’re stating,” he said, and Fili perked up.

“Is _yours_ on the spine-?”

“ _No_ ,” Bilbo said, glaring at him. Fili just grinned.

“You don’t leave him alone, your uncle’s liable to cuff you,” Dwalin growled. “And I’ll be right behind him. Leave Master Baggins alone.”

“It’s just so _strange_ , though, and in a good way,” Kili hastened to add when Thorin and Bilbo both glared at him. “I never would’ve pegged you for having a tattoo, Mister Boggins.”

“ _Baggins_ ,” Bilbo said wearily, the act almost futile at this point, but was surprised to hear Thorin’s voice echoing his. He quickly ducked his head when Thorin looked over at him, his face warm for a completely different reason.

Damn the dwarf. Damn the dwarf and his low voice and his strong embrace that Bilbo _still_ thought about, even days later. Or the way he sang, even though it had been so long since he’d heard him sing last. Or the way he’d started actually speaking to Bilbo, smiling at Bilbo-

“I believe the stew is almost done,” Gandalf said, and the wizard sounded _amused_. “Tomorrow, we will venture to the house of my friend who, with any luck, will allow us to stay and rest for a time.”

“And have Bilbo tell us what his tattoo is,” Kili said. Bilbo rolled his eyes and made certain to sleep with his jacket tucked around him and his legs pulled up to his chest, in case certain dwarves came poking at him in his sleep.

 

The trek was more arduous than Thorin would have preferred, given his injuries. Still, he wasn’t about to settle now. Not when they were close to real rest. Then he’d let his body ease up and just _be_ for awhile.

His foot didn’t quite find a flat surface beneath him and his knee buckled, though only briefly. And it was only briefly because Bilbo was right there, sliding up beside him to keep him steady. “Almost there,” Bilbo murmured, as if unable to help himself from saying something of comfort. Up close, the tips of his ears were nearly at Thorin’s shoulder, and his curls seemed to shine in the light. And then Bilbo turned to glance up at him, a worried look on his face, and it was almost more than he could stand.

Mahal, why had he embraced the hobbit? Why had he made Bilbo really, truly _smile_?

“Thorin?”

“I’m well,” Thorin lied. Bilbo’s worry lines deepened into suspicion, but he didn’t say anything more, simply kept holding fast to Thorin until he could stand straight once more on his own. Even then, he didn’t wander from his side, content to walk beside the dwarf. He wasn’t going very fast, leaving Bilbo more than capable of staying with him. Not that Thorin particularly knew _why_ he wanted to. He’d given the hobbit nothing but grief since he’d begun the journey with them.

All Thorin had seen was a soft middle, far too “respectable” to be adventuring, homebody hobbit. Too slow, too small, not nearly enough training to even keep him alive in the smallest of fights. He’d seen a burden when all he’d wanted was to race across Middle-Earth to his home. _Erebor_.

Then Bilbo had used his wit to help them all escape, alive, from the trolls. He’d somehow found his way through the goblin caves, only to return to them, determined to help Thorin reclaim his home. Then, he’d all but given his life for Thorin’s, standing between him and Azog with only his little blade to defend them both. But he’d done it all the same. Every time Thorin looked at Bilbo it seemed there was something new about the hobbit to surprise him.

And now there was something else to surprise him, beyond the fact that Thorin thought he was _cute_ , Mahal help him. When Bilbo had smiled at him, a real, true smile, Thorin had been gone. And now, now he had a _tattoo_.

“Uncle, there’s a river up ahead, Oin wants to see if he can’t wash your wounds a bit more-“

In Kili and Fili’s haste to help Thorin, Kili caught Bilbo by the shoulder to move him and accidentally tugged at his shirt, his coat already tied about his waist, and revealed a bit of Bilbo’s tanning skin.

And a bit of black ink.

Bilbo yanked the shirt back up so quickly he nearly caught Kili in the nose with his hand. All around them, the company had stopped to look, and were now gazing intently at Bilbo’s shoulder. “I think the river sounds delightful, thank you _very_ much,” Bilbo said shortly, taking long strides off ahead of the others, his face a little red.

Slowly Thorin turned to glare at Kili. Kili hunched his shoulders up to his ears. “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “Honest. I was really trying to help.” His face lit up suddenly. “But did you see it, Fee? A big thick black line-“

“And it’s on his shoulder,” Fili said triumphantly. Both grinned at each other.

Thorin found himself calling on Mahal’s patience, for nothing short of it was going to get him through the day without severely injuring his nephews. Even if his own curiosity was also burning, because the line hadn’t been a small one, and it had obviously been the edge of something much greater. He’d expected something small, something easy to hide. But _that_ line had suggested something much bigger than he’d imagined.

Not that he’d imagined. Much. Really.

They made it down to the river without any further incidents. Bilbo was already there, amongst the others, and all of them were quickly stripping off boots and armor and hats and pants. When there was nothing remaining except small clothes – and in some cases, not even _that_ , and honestly, Thorin had forgotten how white Dwalin’s skin was in certain places – they all dove in, hollering and whooping with glee. Fili helped him down to the water’s edge and began removing his boots. As bad as they could be sometimes, his nephews _were_ a good sort.

“Well? Let’s see it!” Kili was saying, and Thorin immediately took all thoughts of them being a good sort and set them aside.

Bilbo was standing in the river, the water just almost to his waist, the water soaking the bottom edge of his shirt that he hadn’t taken off. His pants and coat were by the shore, and Thorin found himself suddenly wishing he was in water just a _little_ more shallow. He shook himself.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Bofur called. “Come swim! We’ll not bite!” He gave a grin when the others yelled and laughed.

Bilbo shuddered and shook his head. “No thank you. Hobbits can’t swim. Well, the Brandybucks can, but they’re an odd bunch.”

“You can’t swim?” Gloin asked incredulously.

Fili leaned himself forward on one of the rocks, bracing his arm on his leg. “Then you can bathe. Off with the shirt already! You can’t use not knowing how to swim as an excuse. Come on, it’s just a tattoo.”

Everyone was watching Bilbo, and Thorin wished he could say that he wasn’t with the crowd. As it was, however, he found himself waiting to see what Bilbo would do and what the tattoo would be.

Bilbo glanced at him for a moment, then fixed his gaze solely on Fili and Kili. With pursed lips and crossed arms he dropped himself under the water, shirt and all, until only the barest hints of his curls remained to float on the surface.

“ _Foul_! Unfair!” Kili howled. Fili stamped his foot and glared at the water, looking highly put out.

With a gasp Bilbo bounced out of the water, shaking his very wet hair that now hung about his face. He wiped it away and narrowed his gaze at them, but the triumph was still visible in his eyes. “Don’t you two have washing to do?” he asked. His shirt was absolutely drenched, sticking to his skin and hanging from his arms. Through the thin material, Thorin could make out his chest and-

He resolutely turned his gaze away. New surprises every day, it seemed. He hadn’t thought of Bilbo’s shape as being that appealing before. And now it was all he wanted to look at.

From the water, Dwalin grinned at him, far too knowing. Thorin glared at him and made a rude sign, making his cousin roar with laughter and dive into the water, popping up near Ori and startling the other dwarf. Dori yelled at him for it, and Ori merely rolled his eyes and splashed the both of them.

Sloshing sounds made Thorin turn, and he found Bilbo stepping out of the water. Both Fili and Kili were running into it like children, falling in with not a single speck of clothing on them. Bilbo resolutely kept his gaze ahead until they were splashing and very well hidden by the water. They were happy, though, and that was all Thorin needed to hear.

“You know that your shirt _will_ be damp all day,” Thorin said. Even now, Bilbo was wringing it out to the best of his capabilities, and his small clothes were sticking to every part of his skin. Again Thorin forced himself to look only at Bilbo’s face.

Bilbo snorted and raised his eyebrows. “It’s a small price to pay for privacy, don’t you think?”

“You’ll be cold,” he couldn’t help but point out, but he was grinning, too.

With a shrug the hobbit settled beside him on the rocks. “I’ll sun for a bit while the others play and swim and oh sweet Eru,” and he immediately whipped his head to the side as Dwalin dove down straight to the bottom, turning upside down and displaying certain tattoos of his own. In very interesting places. Nori gave a whistle and Ori turned bright red but couldn’t seem to look away. Dori began to fuss over his little brother and pull him away as best he could.

Thorin rolled his eyes. Bilbo’s face was as bright red as Thorin had ever seen it. “I think my nephews were hoping your tattoo would be somewhere like where Dwalin’s is.”

“Then they’ll be sorely disappointed, because the only thing _there_ is…” and then he flushed even brighter, glaring at Thorin’s smirk. “Honestly, _dwarves_.”

“Did it take Dwalin’s undressing to sort that out?”

“You’re as bad as your nephews.”

Thorin shrugged and turned back to the water. Suddenly, a loud shriek was heard from the water, and they both looked up to find Dori staring at Ori in shock. “You have a tattoo?” the older brother wailed. “I didn’t know about it!”

“Because I knew you’d react that way,” Ori said matter of factly. “And no, it’s _not_ knitting needles,” he said when Kili and Fili came wading over to examine Ori’s arm.

“It’s a pen,” Fili said after a moment. “It’s a pen that looks like a sword.”

The others crowded around, and Ori looked about the same as Bilbo had when the tattoo had been brought up. Still, he kept himself still, and if he went a little redder in the face when Dwalin hunched over to look at it intently, no one seemed to notice save for Thorin.

Soon enough, Oin was coming forward with all the focused intent of a healer. Thorin sighed and resigned himself to whatever creative tortures Oin was going to do to him in the name of “healing”.

With Bilbo sunning himself on the rock beside him, however, it wasn’t that bad.

And when Bilbo was indeed colder that evening, Thorin simply draped his traveling coat over the hobbit and moved himself closer to the fire.

 

It got forgotten about, for awhile, which Bilbo heartily appreciated. But with nothing else to do as they wandered through Mirkwood, Kili and Fili started at it again.

“I bet it’s a flower.”

“No, a butterfly. He liked the butterflies in the trees a lot, don’t you remember?”

Bilbo huffed out a sigh and shook his head. At some point, he was going to have to say something to keep his honor. Beside him, Thorin didn’t say a thing, but he _was_ giving Bilbo the side glance. Bilbo raised his eyebrows back at him and kept going. So far, Thorin hadn’t protested Bilbo walking with him. In fact, it almost seemed like he enjoyed it. Staying at Beorn’s had given them plenty of opportunities to avoid one another, the house and land being the great sizes that they were, but instead they’d chosen to sit and remain close to one another. It had been…nice.

All right, it had been amazing, and Bilbo was soaking up every moment like a flower in desperate need of watering.

“A kitten. It has to be.”

Bilbo stopped dead in the path, causing both Kili and Fili to bump into him. “It’s not a kitten,” he finally said when he thought he wasn’t going to bite their heads off.

“Is it a butterfly?” Kili immediately asked. “It’s got to be a butterfly. That’s a hobbit sort of tattoo, right?”

A hobbit sort of tattoo _indeed_. He wasn’t some hobbit lass in her between years, choosing her first ink. “It is _not_ a butterfly, and it’s _not_ a flower, either.” Sweet Eru were they ever going to let up?

Fili shrugged. “If you showed us, we’d know and we’d stop guessing. It’s not as if any of us have anything better to do.”

“I think it’s a biscuit,” Nori said. “Nice, warm biscuit.”

“Mm, a cup of tea! One of those little dainty cups like you had,” Bofur said. That got some rumbles of agreement.

“What’d you call that funny handkerchief with all the holes?” Kili asked. “A doo-er…erm…y?”

“A _doily_ ,” Bilbo stressed. “And it’s not a doily, not in the slightest.” Where did they come up with this?

But all of them were watching him now, _again_ , waiting for an answer, _again_ , and they weren’t going to be satisfied with his simple response of, “No,” no matter how many times he said it. Thorin, too, was gazing at him, he could feel it. Bilbo sighed. What was he supposed to tell them?

The truth, he supposed. “It’s something that…that saved my life,” he said quietly, and _that_ left them quiet. Kili and Fili were blinking in unison, and frankly, it was disturbing to watch. He could all but hear the grinding in their heads as the wheels came to a halt on their mind carts. Actually, the thought was rather encouraging, and he turned, pleased with himself and smiling for the first time since they’d entered Mirkwood. He flashed his grin at Thorin and watched as the dwarf’s mouth fell open, just a little, in surprise, and it made Bilbo want to do things. Like adhere his own mouth to Thorin’s.

Well, that hadn’t lasted long. He couldn’t seem to keep his mind off of the dwarf for more than a minute. At least he was doing better than Dwalin and Ori were. _Honestly_. Who they thought they were fooling when they “fell behind,” Bilbo didn’t know. Dori, perhaps, because the dwarf hadn’t knocked Dwalin over yet. But he didn’t think that was going to last long, either.

They continued walking after that in complete silence. The quiet of the forest began to unnerve him, and he almost wished someone would say something to take his mind off of it and the gnawing hunger that was starting to become his constant.

From beside him suddenly came a wall of strength, keeping him upright and blocking off part of the forest. When he glanced up at Thorin this time, there was a softness in the dwarf's gaze that hadn’t been there for days. Bilbo’s grin fell to an almost shy smile, and Thorin’s own lips turned up.

“I bet it’s Gandalf. That’s why he doesn’t want to show us.”

“Why would it be Gandalf?”

“Because that makes _sense_!” A pause. “What about his nose?”

“Why would Gandalf’s _nose_ make any more sense than his _face_?”

The silence of the forest was starting to sound better with every moment. From beside him, Thorin’s shoulders began to shake, and Bilbo scowled at him. At least one of them was amused.

 

He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, gazing at it all. All of the gold that his grandfather’s kingdom had amassed, and it was laid out before him like the treasure it was. Smaug had kept it clean and beautiful, at least, though he wasn’t going to owe the dragon a damn thing. It was his, now. Well, and the company’s. Maybe he could see if they would hold off on claiming it for a bit more. Just so he could stand and just…see it. He wanted to run his fingers through it, wanted to feel it on his skin and in his very breath.

“Thorin?”

The soft voice pulled his attention away from the gold at last. Bilbo moved into the room cautiously, as if unsure of his welcome. His hair looked like spun gold, and his eyes were like gems. Just as beautiful as the treasures here in the Treasury, and that, Thorin would always allow in.

He smiled at Bilbo, looking the hobbit up and down. “Are you well?” he asked. He’d told Balin he didn’t want to be disturbed, but Bilbo was no disturbance. Bilbo had become a friend, through the darkness of Mirkwood and the days in Esgaroth. Bilbo was, perhaps, more than a friend. His eyes still drifted to the gold.

“I’m, well. I’m all right.”

It wasn’t exactly an honest answer, by his tone, and Thorin turned back to him. He looked small, all of a sudden, and very concerned. Thorin’s own brow began to furrow. “What is it?” he asked. “Anything you desire, and I would give it to you.” Anything for his burglar, for his friend, for perhaps one of the greatest treasures he’d ever unearthed.

Bilbo bit his lip, then slid off of his coat. Thorin’s mouth went dry when Bilbo went for the buttons of his shirt. “Bilbo-“

“I want to show you something,” he said, glaring when a button didn’t quite move the way he wanted it to, and Thorin’s mind came up with the answer even as Bilbo fumbled over the last button. The tattoo. What Bilbo had managed to keep hidden the entire journey.

Eyes and mind were completely locked on the hobbit now. “You do not owe me anything,” Thorin said gravely. “If anything, I owe you. You returned Erebor to me-“

“Stop fussing,” Bilbo ordered, and Thorin stopped. Then the shirt came off, and before Thorin could even truly appreciate the expanse of skin exposed to him and the small trail of hair around his navel – it looked like gold, too, sun kissed gold, or more like the gold of the flowers that had grown in Beorn’s fields – Bilbo was turning around, and there was the tattoo. Thorin slowly moved forward and stared at it.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. But he wasn’t certain what he _had_ been expecting from this hobbit, this brave and beautiful hobbit that had caught his attention and demanded it.

“A…songbird’s wing?” he asked quietly. It was only the one wing, spread out as if in flight, stretching from the edge of Bilbo’s spine and out to the edge of his shoulder. His other shoulder was bare, as if he was a one-winged bird who could never fly. The blue was magnificent, a touch of red beneath it on the bottom most feathers.

“When my mother died, I got…lost. For a time. And I finally left the house one day to swim.”

Thorin frowned at the soft voice. “You can’t swim, you said as much,” he said. Bilbo remained quiet, not even daring to look over his shoulder at Thorin, and Thorin’s blood went ice cold. There was simply no way his hobbit had given up and meant to never resurface. But the truth was all there in the tense way Bilbo held himself, the way he refused to look at Thorin.

The gold glittered beside him, but Thorin ignored it and ran one hand gently over the tattoo, half to feel, half to soothe. Bilbo shivered under his touch but continued. “When I stepped outside, however, I found a songbird on the ground. It had hit one of the windows, I think, and it couldn’t fly. One of its wings was bent. So I cradled it and took it back inside and made a nest of a basket and blankets near one of the large windows in the den. I fed it every day and opened the window to give it fresh air, though it never went out. It never sang, it never did anything. It just existed. I did, too.”

His skin was so soft beneath Thorin’s fingers, and he found himself tracing the wing. It was startlingly lifelike. Bilbo finally dared to glance over his shoulder at Thorin. “Then one day, it was gone. And I was terrified it had tried to fly and gotten itself into the fire, it had gotten further hurt, and then I heard a song.” He gave a half smile. “It had flown out to the tree near the window, and it was singing again. It had healed.”

He swallowed. “By that point, weeks had passed, and summer was on its way. And I’d survived. I was still alive. And I wouldn’t have been, if it hadn’t been for the songbird and its broken wing. So I went and got it put on my shoulder as a reminder that, that I could fly, too. That I could live, even if I was a little broken sometimes.”

The world felt hazy for a moment, and when Thorin glanced around, the gold was still there, shimmering in the light of the torches. But it was just gold, nothing else. It no longer held the same shine, the same allure. He turned to Bilbo. “Why did you come down here?” he asked quietly.

Bilbo shrugged. “You’d been gone for a long time. I thought you might want some company. And Kili and Fili were bothering me about the tattoo and I thought, well. If anyone deserved to see it, it was you.”

His eyes were still bright and beautiful, and his hair ached to be touched. He was still a treasure, but not because he reminded Thorin of gems and gold. He was simply Bilbo, and that was reason enough. “Should I leave you alone-?” Bilbo began.

Thorin’s fingers tightened just enough to let him pull Bilbo closer. His bare skin was there, his tattoo on stark display, and all Thorin wanted to do was run his fingers over it all, spread his hand over the expanse that was his smooth skin. So he did so, and when Bilbo shivered, cheeks going pink, Thorin did it again. Then he wanted to bring his lips to Bilbo’s and feel them, see if they were as full as they looked, and he discovered that they were, and they were even softer and fuller still after he’d bitten them.

He wound up also discovering that Bilbo did _not_ have any tattoos anywhere else, true to his earlier claim. The hobbit did, however, have Thorin’s hand and Thorin’s mouth there for a time. Similarly, Bilbo discovered all of Thorin’s tattoos, from his bare shoulders to his not so bare back to the one on his arm and the one on his thigh. Bilbo particularly liked that one. Amongst other things.

And when they finally emerged and rejoined the others, Fili and Kili were both horrified that Thorin had seen Bilbo’s tattoo first and refused to tell them what it was, and then mortified when Thorin happily told them he’d seen quite a bit more of Bilbo than that. Bilbo may have helped embellish. Just a little.

Which helped take the sting away from Dori when the dwarf finally bought a clue as to what his baby brother and Dwalin were doing. Apparently Dwalin had a thing for a dwarf who knitted and had a pen tattoo. And apparently Ori had a thing for a taller dwarf with a lot more tattoos than Ori had. After awhile, Dori went off to have a good cry about his baby brother growing up and not telling him, and Bofur helpfully offered part of his shirt as a handkerchief.

The next day, while Bilbo helped Balin settle with Bard and Thranduil small sums of gold, keeping Erebor’s true wealth a secret for her own people, and Dwalin settled the Arkenstone Bilbo had found above the throne, Thorin began to plan.

 

“A bird’s wing?”

Bilbo narrowed his gaze. His soon to be nephew looked decidedly disappointed. “What did you expect?” he asked.

Kili shrugged. “You said it saved you. I guess I was expecting something like a frying pan or another hobbit weapon, like a ladle.”

Bilbo shut his eyes tight and forced himself to breathe slowly. “Is that all you wanted?” he finally asked the both of them when he opened his eyes and found them still standing there. “Because I have other things I need to get to. Like asking Bombur for his ladle to knock the both of you out with.”

Fili rolled his eyes. “Uncle wants to see you. Said we shouldn’t bother you if you were busy, but he called us specifically for that, so I assumed he wanted you with a bit of urgency.”

They were good lads, when they wanted to be, and for that, Bilbo was willing to let them go. He gave them both pats on the shoulder, rearranged his shirt, and set off down the hall. Behind him, he heard Kili asked Fili, “How’s a bird’s wing save you?”

He might tell them, one day. Telling Thorin had been hard enough, but it had been his gambling chip, his one weapon he had in order to save Thorin from the gold lust. And, surprisingly, it had worked.

He nodded to various dwarves as he passed them in the hallway, all of them setting up various things for the wedding in just a few short days. Honestly, Bilbo didn’t _need_ such an extravagant wedding, but Thorin had insisted, saying Bilbo deserved the best and more. His intended could be an utter sap when he wanted to be.

Soon he found himself at Thorin’s door – and it was going to be their door in a short while, well, it really should have been theirs already, given that the bed was most _certainly_ theirs at this point – and knocked swiftly before hearing a quick permission to enter. He swung the door open, already speaking. “Kili and Fili finally badgered me into showing them the tattoo, and Kili was upset that it wasn’t a _frying pan_ -“

And then his eyes caught on his soon to be husband and he just sort of stopped.

Thorin was, as always, impressive when undressed. Even if he had trousers on, they still fit snugly as if he were bare, and his back most certainly was devoid of everything save for his tattoos. Except, now, he could see one on his left shoulder, the tattoo so new the skin was still a bit red.

Thorin glanced over his shoulder and smiled, that horrible smile that made Bilbo go weak in the knees and demand to be carried, preferably towards a bed. “Do you like it?” he asked, and Bilbo came forward to look at it more closely.

He’d expected something…much different. Not a golden tree branch with Bilbo’s name spiraled across the wood like it had naturally grown that way, stretching much how Bilbo's did. Startled, he met Thorin’s gaze, his intended still smiling. “Well?” Thorin asked.

“I…don’t understand,” Bilbo said. “It’s beautiful, no doubt there, but I’m a little confused.” A lot confused, actually.

Thorin turned, his hair hanging about his face and down his skin. He placed his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders, thumb brushing across the top edge of the blue wing. “I now bear a tattoo much like yours,” he said. “I, too, now have a tattoo of that which saved me.”

Bilbo stared, unable to look away. Thorin moved his hand to brush Bilbo’s hair past his ear. “You defended me better than my oaken shield, when I fell to Azog. And that day, in the Treasury…I would have been lost to the gold, if not for you. You saved me. It’s only fitting that I bear your name as my treasure, my shield, much as you bear your wing.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo croaked, his chest too full and too warm to say anything else, and when Thorin swooped down to take his mouth, Bilbo melted.

Their bed was decidedly claimed as their bed once again. And when they emerged once more, Kili and Fili didn’t even bother asking, just ducked their heads and looked anywhere else. Well, until Fili caught sight of Thorin’s tattoo, then demanded to know what it was and what it meant.

Thorin took a page out of Bilbo’s book and refused to tell them. And both nephews were still puzzling over it the day that Thorin took Bilbo’s hand in his, in front of all of Erebor, and married him.

And if Dwalin took a page out of _their_ book and married Ori not long after that, well. Bilbo offered Dori a proper handkerchief and Thorin kept the way barred lest the dwarf decide he didn’t really want Ori marrying the taller dwarf. But the wedding went off well, and the company cheered them on, as did the majority of Erebor.

 

“So, I was thinking,” Bilbo said some months later, within earshot of Kili and Fili, “of another tattoo. Preferably one that reminds me of you.”

Thorin raised his eyebrows, even while Fili and Kili whipped their heads around to eagerly listen in. “And what would remind you of me?”

Bilbo shrugged, and then didn’t get a chance to answer. “A flower, I think, would be _lovely_ ,” Fili drawled while Kili snickered behind his hand. “Don’t you, Kili?”

“Absolutely,” Kili said adamantly. “I think that’s just right.”

Before Thorin could say anything, Bilbo’s narrow gaze suddenly smoothed out into a far too innocent face. “You know, I quite agree,” he said, much to the surprise of their nephews. “Then I could put it some _where_ that reminds me of you.”

“You pick what you want,” Fili said quickly, and he and Kili vanished so rapidly Thorin would’ve thought they had Bilbo’s magic ring. Bilbo grinned, and it made Thorin want toss aside the documents he was supposed to be reviewing right that minute and do something _much_ more productive.

“Honestly, _hobbits_ ,” he said, and Bilbo’s grin widened impossibly further.

“Did it take my undressing to figure that out?”

“Maybe. I should check, just to be certain.”

Bilbo laughed all the way through their door to their bed.

_Finis_


End file.
